The Story of My Life
by StarWarrior72
Summary: After a particularly bad day, Darth Vader is annoyed to see a little boy, seeming with no reason to be upset, crying by the schoolhouse near where he's landed his ship. When he tries to take out his anger on the boy, he realizes that nothing is as simple as he'd like to think. Fluff for a friend who's having a bad time. Hope you feel better soon.


Vader walked into his quarters and looked around at them, wondering why all of it made him feel lonelier. They were sparsely decorated, it was true, a double bed, a desk, and a single chair, but never before had uninteresting surroundings made him lonely. He had grown up on uninteresting, uncluttered surroundings at the Jedi Temple. _It's not the surroundings that bother me,_ he realized, _It's the fact I have no one to share them with. The same way that being healed didn't improve my life as much as I thought it would. What good are good things when there's no one to share them with?_

He walked to his bed, sitting down on the same side as he always did, unable to shake the memories of when the other side had been Padmé's. He looked at the other side sadly, wondering for a long moment what Padmé would have looked like had she lain there. He couldn't call her face back to his mind, however, and he looked away, feeling tears stinging his eyes. His gaze fell upon the single chair, unoccupied, and without a second for his wife.

He stood up quickly and hurried back out. He knew that his lonely, empty quarters would only continue to worsen his mood. He didn't know where he planned to go, only that it was anywhere but the loneliness within.

He looked out on Anchorhead, a small town on Tatooine, where he had been sent to deal with mutterings of rebel sympathies. Surely another of his master's tests, he thought. His gaze drifted across the familiar sand dome dwellings, and over to the local school house. It was on the outskirts of town, a poorly thought out late addition to the town. After all, what education did you need to operate a vaporator? A small form sat before the school, short legs dangling over the drop into the main town.

Vader could sense the despair radiating from the child. _What do you have to be upset about?_ he thought angrily, walking towards the person._ You seem well fed, properly dressed, and you're being educated. Surely you have a caring family waiting for you. What right have you to cry?_

He sat down next to the child, and followed his gaze out across the village. Nothing immediately met his gaze, so he turned to look at the boy. He was very young, perhaps five, or six. He was dressed in typical Tatooine farming clothes, his blonde hair just long enough that it curled out at the ends. He was tightly hugging a cheaply bound book, tears streaming down his face.

"Why are you crying?" Vader asked, mock concerned.

The boy didn't seem to have noticed the sarcasm in his voice because he said, "Auntie says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

Vader sat silently.

The boy sighed, sounding older than he looked, "They were teasing me again," he said, "The bigger kids."

"What could they possibly have teased you about that merits this kind of reaction?" Vader asked, disgusted by the boy's weakness. Up close, the boy seemed better cared for than ever, and that gave him less of a reason to be depressed than before.

"They were talking about my parents," the boy said in soft despair, "They love talking about my parents. Every day, they find me in the playground, and they've always got mean things to say."

Bored, uncaring in his voice, Vader asked, "What do they say about your parents?"

The boy sniffled, and hugged his book more tightly than ever. Vader thought that he heard a cracking come from the book, but he wasn't sure. The boy looked more miserable by the moment, finally casting down his book, "They say that they didn't want me. They say Mommy and Daddy abandoned me."

The book carried a clearly hand-drawn picture of what must have been the little boy, with two taller shapes similar to his, one wearing a tunic like Luke's the other a modest dress. At the bottom of the page was written, in printing his guardians must have helped him with, _My Mommy and Daddy Love Me._

"What's this?" Vader asked, picking it up and leafing through the pages, met with more and more drawings of the same figures.

"We were all supposed to write about our dreams," he said, "And so I wrote about growing up with my mommy and daddy. The other kids all wrote about jobs they wanna have, though, or wanting to fall in love, or get famous or whatever."

Vader flipped back to the beginning of the book, forgetting to be cold and beginning to read. It was written in a sloppy set of couplets, each with an accompanying drawing.

_My mom and daddy love me,_

_Auntie says that's how it'd be._

"They didn't like it," the little boy said, "They said it was stupid to want something that couldn't possibly happen. We were all supposed to write something nice about everyone else's stories in the front cover, but they just wrote mean things all through it."

Vader noted the unkind embellishments to the drawings, and the downright rude words that surrounded them. He turned the page.

_I know someday they're coming back,_

_So I've already packed._

"They said it was stupid," he repeated, looking over at his scrappy drawings. The one on that page showed the little boy carrying a backpack to a contrastingly well drawn ship, where the parent figures waited for him, "I put nice things in all of theirs."

_Uncle says that it won't happen,_

_But I know they're coming._

"Cammie wrote about wanting to have a nice husband when she grows up, I don't really think she'll be able to get a nice husband unless she gets a bit nicer. But I wrote that I was sure she'll meet someone great as long as she treats him good."

_And when they come, we'll go away,_

_We'll see the galaxy one day._

"Fixer wrote about wanting to take over Tosche station when his dad gets too old to do it anymore. I don't think he'll do a good job of it until he learns to be nicer to people he thinks he's above. He's the one who punched me when I stood up for my story."

Vader looked up at the little boy, and noticed that the eye he had had turned away most of the time was starting to bruise. Maybe he wasn't treated quite as well after all. And why was he even still at school? It must have been well after closing time. Vader felt a prickle of pity for the little boy. He told himself that that was all right, as long as compassion didn't sneak in.

He returned his attention to the next page.

_We'll go away from this boring place,_

_Dragons and monsters we will face._

"Windy wrote about getting more vaporators for his dad's farm. I think he can probably do that, so I just wrote that I thought he should aim higher than that."

Vader turned his attention to some of the graffiti in the book, and wished he hadn't. The school children at the local school seemed to have torn into the story with everything they had.

_But no matter what we see,_

_Mommy and Daddy will never leave me._

"Tank and Biggs had more interesting dreams. They both wrote about joining the Empire. They thought I would've too, but I wanted to write about this. We were supposed to write something that everyone doesn't already know. I know that they don't understand how bad I want my parents. I don't think this helped, though."

_They'll take care of me all the way,_

_We'll stay together every day._

"Biggs at least wrote something nice. Even Tank said that I should've written about joining the Empire or anything except this."

Vader turned the final page, and found a large scrawled note in red pen, the distinctive mark of a teacher.

"At least my teacher liked it," he sighed, "He said it was really good, that it had a lot more meaning than most kids'."

Vader riffled back through the pages looking at the cruel words, "The printing in this is from someone older than you."

"It was integrated day. We have a day every month when we're all supposed to get into groups of all the grades and tell them something about us. I thought they were my friends," he said, indicating the book and sniffling.

Vader handed the book back, and it was snatched, and hugged once more. The boy cried for a few minutes before swiping his tears away, "Why are you upset?" he asked, "I should've asked you first. And what's your name? I'm Luke, by the way."

Vader chose not to answer the question about his name. The news releases since he had been healed, he supposed, had not yet reached Luke's homestead, and he wanted to keep the boy's easy trust.

"The same reason as you, in a way."

"No way," Luke said, "No one'd be mean to you. You could shut up anyone who tried to say anything mean about you. You wouldn't be the one getting punched. You'd be the one punching! You can stand up for yourself!" he leapt to his feet, and seemed to try to prepare a punch.

Vader took his arm and pulled him back down to the sand, "I don't mean in the form of being bullied. I mean missing my family," he said, indicating the book Luke had dropped.

"Oh," Luke said, getting himself comfortable in the sand, "What happened to your family?"

"My wife was killed," Vader answered quickly.

"Why? What did she do? When?" and then, very passionately, "Do you need a hug?" which was accompanied by a hug.

Vader smiled sadly, looking down at the little boy, then returned the hug.

"Why?" Luke demanded, letting him go, "Why would anyone kill her? Why are people mean?"

"I don't know why people are mean," Vader answered, "My wife was killed in an accident," he chose his words carefully, not wanting to tell the little boy exactly what had happened to her.

Luke mumbled, "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Vader said. He felt suddenly as though his own troubles really had been somewhat dwarfed by the little boy's worries. He had been the cause of his wife's death, and though that introduced considerable guilt to his mind, he had not thought of people who had lost everything that mattered to them by no fault of their own when he had considered himself so unlucky.

Luke had attached himself to Vader's arm, clinging to his book, "That's not the whole reason you're upset," he said suddenly.

"No," Vader admitted.

"Well, what else is it?" Luke demanded.

"I have no one who cares for me," Vader said, "I have no family waiting for me to get home. I was recently healed from what could have been fatal wounds, and I realized that there was no one in the galaxy who cared that I was healthy for the first time in years. I lost what respect I had gained, because of the change in my appearance. Now when I reveal who I am, I'm met with horror and fear. I had hoped that this could be a fresh slate on which I could write myself as a hero," he admitted.

"_I_ care!" Luke said, "I respect you! You can be my hero!" and then, in a tone that said that he was being completely sincere, not just trying to comfort Vader, he said, "I wanna be just like you when I grow up!"

Vader smiled, hiding the pain at the statement, and ruffled the boy's hair affectionately, "And why is that?"

"Because you sat down to talk to me! Because you let me tell you my problems first, even though yours are worse! Most grown-ups don't listen at all, never mind let me go first, or say everything I've gotta say!"

Vader smiled more genuinely, "Thank you," he said, and then on an impulse, he asked, "May I see your book for a moment?"

The little boy passed it back, and Vader found that the flip side of the last page was blank, "Do you have a pen?"

Luke produced one, which Vader noted with amusement, was purple, and sparkled as he tested it.

He flipped back to the beginning. He began to add his own couplets, every bit as untidy as Luke's, underneath the original ones in his tightest, neatest handwriting, which Obi-Wan had always teased him about, joking that it was very feminine.

_Of course they'd love you, little Luke,_

He paused to think for a moment, then continued,

_They'd love you because you're just so cute,_

He let out a snort at how out of character the words were. But they fit the rhyme scheme, and besides that, they were true.

Luke peeked over his shoulder, and Vader gently pushed him away, "You can see it when I'm done."

_When they come and take you far away,_

_Enjoy yourself, and laugh and play,_

_Your uncle's wrong,_

_Though you'll have to wait long,_

_Someday they will return,_

_Your love they'd never spurn,_

_The monsters aren't what you dream,_

_Boring's better than it seems,_

_When things go wrong,_

_Don't stay sad too long,_

_Because they'll never leave you,_

_You're right, you know, it's true,_

_They'll never leave you all alone,_

_And you'll be safe at home._

He looked up from the book and reread the poem he'd added. He hoped that each line met Luke's lines properly, hoping the boy would keep the book, even if it had been scribbled in by his unkind classmates.

"What are you writing?" Luke asked curiously.

"I'm just finishing up the book for you," Vader answered, skimming the words once more. They felt right, honest, kind, if a little bit more sappy than anything Vader would usually say.

He turned to the last page and looked at it pensively, wondering if it would be right to add new ideas to the book entirely. He looked at the boy, who was looking at the horizon, seeming rather glazed.

"Luke?"

"Yeah?" the boy asked, turning back to him and blinking as though to clear his eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"I didn't get on the bus," Luke admitted, "So my aunt an' uncle are probably really worried about me."

Vader passed him a comlink, "Give them a call, and say I'll bring you home, all right?"

Luke nodded, taking the little device.

Vader watched him start to dial and made a quick decision. He felt his writing getting scrappier, harder to read, but continued jotting down his last few lines.

_And I love you, little one,_

He wrote, before being forced to bite his lip in order to find the courage to keep writing.

_Remember than when day is done,_

_No matter what they say or do,_

_My love will always be with you,_

_I have no family to love,_

_But when you look up above,_

_And when you gaze up in the sky,_

_At every ship that passes by,_

_And in the pain that morning brings,_

_I know that you are destined for great things._

Then he quickly pressed the little book back into Luke's hands, and the boy accepted it, returning his comlink.

"Come on," Vader said, standing up. He led the boy to his speeder, and lifted him in, inwardly berating himself. What had made him write those sappy, sappy words in the boy's book? Why had he volunteered to drive him home? Why couldn't he be properly angry with himself over those lacks of forethought?

"Thanks," Luke said, wrapping his arms around his book once more, "My uncle's gonna be really mad," he said, "He doesn't like when I don't get on the bus. Aunt Beru says he worries. I think he's just a jerk."

"I can relate to that," Vader answered, without really thinking about the words.

Luke smiled up at him, "I know. That's why I like you."

Vader smiled, "I'm glad you like me. I like you too."

"I wish you were taking care of me instead of Uncle Owen."

Vader sighed, "I don't have time or energy to spare most of the time, I'm afraid. I get terribly angry as well. You're safer with your aunt and uncle. Otherwise, I would love to adopt you."

"We can at least stay in touch, can't we?" Luke asked pleadingly.

Vader looked at the boy, who looked very small, clinging to his book, "I don't think we can. My work takes me all across the galaxy, and I have very little free time. I don't think I'll have time to answer any messages you send me."

"Oh," Luke said softly, "I'd hoped—," but he cut himself off, leaving Vader to wonder.

"Hoped what?" Vader asked, when he could bear the suspense no longer.

"I'd hoped I could keep you around. You're good to talk to," Luke said.

Vader smiled at him, "I'm glad I spoke to you, Luke."

"Me too," Luke said, resting his book on his knees, "We've gotta turn this way out of town," he said, pointing.

Vader followed the little boy's finger, driving out across the desert, the young child bumping along in his seat, as Vader accelerated without noticing until they were screaming across the sand, any words spoken ripped from their mouths.

As Vader followed the little boy's pointed directions, he found himself frowning to himself, the path a little too familiar. He glanced over at the boy, wondering if he should slow down and ask the boy about what he was thinking, but before he could make up his mind, his eyes fell on the book on his lap, and he felt them grow wide.

A line of text he hadn't noticed the first time over had come into focus, a very important line, _By Luke Skywalker, with help from Beru Lars_.

Vader looked up at the little boy's wondering face, the child's eyes taking in the rapidly passing landscape. As Vader pulled the speeder up to a very familiar moisture farm, he managed words, "Luke, I'd like to see your book another moment, please."

Luke shrugged, and passed it to him, and Vader took it with exquisite care. He opened it to the last page again, and took a pen from the glove compartment, adding with the mismatched black ink.

_Luke, my son, our day is through,_

_I will always remember you,_

_And if it ever becomes too much, _

_This is how to get in touch,_

He finished the last line, and quickly scrawled down an old contact code from the Clone Wars, resolving to find the matching comlink when he returned to his ship.

"Here you are," he told Luke, passing the book back to him, "You head on downstairs, alright?"

Luke nodded, and slipped from the speeder, landing with a very slight spray of sand.

"Bye, mister. Thanks for talking to me, and bringing me home," the boy said very politely.

Vader smiled at him one last time before turning the speeder around, and racing back across the desert, already second guessing his decision to add the last four lines to that poem. Suppose Luke told his friends? Suppose Obi-Wan found out? Despite his searching, Vader had never been able to find the man.

_It'll be all right,_ he told himself, _Luke's a clever little boy. He'll take care of who he gives that information to._

When he reached his ship, the comlink his wife had given him seven years ago was already beeping loudly, indicating an important message.

Smiling, Vader began the recording.


End file.
